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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004188">Thistledown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bawgdan/pseuds/Bawgdan'>Bawgdan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Love, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:48:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bawgdan/pseuds/Bawgdan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko has exceeded his expectations of himself. Now that he has earned his place in society, he has stopped working so hard on the little details, getting caught up in the canvas size of the bigger picture.</p><p>“They never discussed it, but both came to understand it as a promise: he would always make sure there was a place for her. She would always be able to say, Someone is coming. I am not alone.” Celeste Ng</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aang/Katara (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>What are the necessities of a successful man? To a simple farmer, his land, his tools, his livestock, and a wife. A shopkeeper requires his books, his coin, his friends and their coin, and a wife. A man with nothing desires food, clothes, and someone who loves him.</p><p>Zuko figures the next step to his success is marriage. He'd planned every minuscule detail. What Mai would be wearing that day. The food they'd eat. Hell, even the weather. The moon cycle. It had to be the perfect memory of a mile stone, so when she told the story to their kids, they'd know just how important it is to love and be loved.</p><p>Zuko proposed over dinner, on the pavilion, under a full moon. No clouds in the sky. Just a stretch of stars. </p><p>Mai said no. She said he was overcompensating. Accused him of not knowing what it is that women truly desire.</p><p>So Zuko had won in all other aspects of his life but lost when it came to love. When was it a terrible thing to be romantic? They finished dinner in complete silence. Then they went to bed together. Mai acted as though the destruction of his feelings had never occurred. She woke up the next morning and asked him 'silk or cotton?'</p><p>It took him a moment to realize she was talking about their bedsheets.</p><p>Zuko's birthday arrives and<em> still </em>they don't talk about it. </p><p>She and Iroh had managed a surprise party without him knowing (inviting well over one hundred people). Zuko realizes then just how much Mai's rejection had obliterated his skillful hunches. Nothing ever surprises Zuko. </p><p>"You are loved." Mai kisses him on the mouth.</p><p>"I know." Zuko wonders to what extent if she won't marry him.</p><p>The celebration goes on without him. Zuko sulks on the balcony with his golden cup of wine that he hasn't touched. He just wants something to hold.</p><p>Iroh told him that worse things could happen and sure—worse things <em> have </em> happened. Zuko just doesn't like reliving failure. Not succeeding is a source of trauma he hasn't learned to cope with.</p><p>Zuko hears someone behind him but doesn't stir from the bench. He stubbornly watches the clouds floating west, blanketing the moon. A pair of hands cup the side of his face, fingers resting on his eyelids. His nose is trapped in the smell of the ocean.</p><p>"So do you feel like an old man yet?" Katara's breath trickles down the side of his face.</p><p>"I'm never getting old." Zuko snorts. </p><p>"You're moping like a grumpy old man." She whispers.</p><p>"I'm not moping."</p><p>"Ok, maybe you're not moping but you're absent from your own party and it hasn't gone unnoticed." Katara says softly yet pointedly. "You're hurting Mai's feelings."</p><p>"I guess I am." Zuko's voice cracks, then he clears his throat, brings the wine to his lips and burns away all traces of his tepidness. Katara drops her hands from his face and sits beside him. She has her hair pulled away from her face in a tight bun. A tendril spirals around each of her ears but she looks entirely put together. Like someone who can't relate to emotional vindictiveness. </p><p>"Happy Birthday, old man." She pats his knee. The bracelets on her arm humming against the soft impact. </p><p>"Thank you, Katara." Zuko had last seen her at a conclave many months ago. They didn't have much time to talk. They're both over achievers when it comes to their duties. Zuko used to be bothered by the distance, but with age came insight. It has been for the best because he has always been attracted to her. It surpasses physical desire. It's wherever the soul is hidden inside of the human body. Wishful thinking has led him to believe that she's purposefully kept the distance for the same reason.</p><p>Katara looks away and smiles, removing her hand from his knee. </p><p>"I've been in the world for thirty years." Zuko stares inside of his cup. The wine catches the light of the glowing lantern over their heads. </p><p>"What's wrong?" Katara is forthcoming when it counts the most.</p><p>"Do I look that miserable?" One corner of Zuko's mouth twitches.</p><p>"You look very upset." </p><p>Mai says Zuko is articulate in all matters but the state of his emotional intelligence. When he is angry, he is quiet out of necessity. He never wants to be Ozai, but silent bitterness makes him impossible to be around. A lot of things irritate him.</p><p>"I proposed to Mai and she told me no." Zuko sighs out his frustration.</p><p>"Oh." Katara's voice is small.</p><p>"Yes. <em> Oh </em> . That's all you have to say? <em> Oh </em>." He grimaces.</p><p>"Well, did she tell you why?" Katara wrinkles her nose at him.</p><p>"She said that I was overcompensating and that I didn't know what women want. Of course I don't know what women want. I don't want other women. I wan't Mai." Zuko shrugs his shoulders like he always does when something hurts his feelings. As grown as he is, Katara can still see traces of the mercurial teenager in his sullenness. </p><p>"May I ask an invasive question?" Katara and the boundaries he wishes she would stop adhering to. </p><p>"You don't need manners with me. Just ask."</p><p>"Do you want to marry her because you love her or is it because you're just ready to be married for the sake of being married?" Katara tilts her head to the side.</p><p>"I mean...for both reasons." Zuko stammers, not really seeing the defined line.</p><p>"Everyone expects you to be married, but are you really ready to be married?" Katara isn't married. In his past conversations with Aang, marriage or the lack of it was never brought up.</p><p>"I'm thirty with no heir." Zuko narrows his eyes at her.</p><p>"You can love someone but not marry them. Maybe that's the point she was trying to make." Katara glares back at him. Zuko huffs as the heat spreads from his ears to his cheeks. Even his neck starts to feel warm.</p><p>"I love Mai." He puts a lot of emphasis on love.</p><p>"You don't have to prove it to me. I believe you." She states with cold stoicism. It's possible he is imagining it. Katara is rarely cold. Practical, calculated, logical, but never cold.</p><p>A stretch of uninterrupted silence happens. Katara rises from the bench. Her dress unfurling. She opens her mouth, squinting, as though she is about to say something compelling. Her chest rises, she freezes momentarily but decides not to say whatever has crossed her mind.</p><p>"Happy Birthday, Zuko." Katara breathes out and puts on a weak smile. She leaves. Zuko stands up. The wine spills over his hand, staining the sleeves of his shirt. When there ought to be words, Zuko comes up short. It's the problem Mai always has with him. He can never say the right things.</p><p>.<br/>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>It is like men to conveniently forget the things that matter. Even Aang, who has always been enthusiastic about loving her, forgets things habitually. </p><p><em> Zuko's happiness</em>. Katara grabs herself a cup of wine, scoffing. He has only just discovered happiness very recently. She wishes him no ill will. That would be unlady-like and she was raised better than that, but he has given her no credit. Katara wants credit for some of his happiness. She looks into the faces of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Some she has met in court. Most are strangers in red. </p><p>Katara remembers kissing the back of his sweaty neck. The surface of his skin was raised from an irritated mosquito bite. Tiny angry red bumps, she pressed her mouth against him and tasted the nasty mix of summer, sweat, and vulnerability.</p><p>Are memories such as this so easily misplaced? Did Zuko slide it under his pillow and simply forget where he hid it? Is she remembering it all wrong? It is possible to share an experience with someone and interpret it differently. She most certainly remembers her lips were on his neck for a very long time. That cannot be interpreted as anything but affection.</p><p>Mai is radiant with happiness for someone who doesn't want to marry the Fire Lord. She laughs behind her fingers with her friends. She is drenched in gold and red. She shares an elegant paleness with her peers. The woman beside her, equally as pretty, catches Katara staring and pinches Mai on the shoulder. Women in the Fire Nation have a cruel beauty to them. If Katara had a sadistic sense of self foisted upon her since childhood, perhaps she'd have sophisticated demeanor and devastating beauty (that warrants rejecting the Fire Lord).</p><p>The group of women look in her direction and smile, especially Mai who should be eternally grateful that Katara made <em> the love of her life </em> lovable in the first place.</p><p>These are childish musing. Katara is aware. She has manners and never speaks on the terrible intrusive thoughts. Not even Aang is aware of her inner mean streak. Katara could never speak a bad thought, even if her life were contingent upon it. She'd die before she decides to actively hurt anyone's feelings. <em> There's a way to speak the truth </em>—her grandmother would say. Tough love can be fattened with sweetness before serving it.</p><p>Zuko never said he loved her. They've never kissed.</p><p>But there are many conversations that have been had. Katara has all of his fears and aspirations memorized, and can speak them like a second language. </p><p>Katara smiles back and waves. She used to want Zuko. That is the only talk they never got around to.</p><p>"So he chose to sit outside and sulk?" Iroh sidles beside her. Katara drops her hand at her side, throwing back the golden cup. Katara isn't a drinker. She gags when it burns. </p><p>"Of course he did. I don't think I'm equipped to talk good sense into him anymore. He's thirty terrible years old now." Katara wipes the trickle of wine from her chin. The torn skin on her bottom lip stings. "And I, an almost thirty year old woman, lack the patience."</p><p>Iroh grumbles in agreement. Zuko has come far but he is still obtuse when it comes to nurturing his relationships. </p><p>"He's your problem." Katara lowers her chin. Iroh watches her closely. She can feel his eyes roaming the topography of her features. Iroh pretends to be a foppish old man so that he can get closer to people—he's no threat if he's only understood to be humorous and far removed from his past. Sometimes Katara forgets the viciousness of his observations. Iroh's greatest deception is the wrinkling of his skin and gray hair.</p><p>"Zuko stopped being my problem when my knees went bad." Iroh lets out a wet cough.</p><p>"If you're about to make a joke about dying, I'd prefer that you keep it to yourself." Katara's smile is faint.</p><p>"Speaking of dying, you ought to let that hurt go. Sink it in the ocean before the going gets tough." He claps her hard on the back.</p><p>"I feel no hurt." She hiccups against her knuckles.</p><p>Iroh knows that she is lying because she looks around him and not at him. Katara is bad at lying.</p><p>"No. I suppose you don't." Iroh takes the cup from her hand and finishes it in one go.</p><p>"Where is Aang?"</p><p>"Having fun I reckon." He chuckles so, the rolls in his neck deepen. </p><p>When Iroh walks away, Katara can't help but feel like he'd gone out of his way to be facetious.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Aang wants to marry her. Katara also says no each time he asks, but it is in good fun. Neither of them are in a hurry. Katara makes the mistake of telling him that Mai refuses to marry Zuko.</p><p>"Why won't you marry me? Do you feel like I don't understand what you want?" Aang combs the waves out of her hair. Katara watches his reflection in the mirror. He hides the severity of the question behind a playful smile.</p><p>Katara simply sees no reason to be married. The dream died after puberty. She loves Aang but the male condition is less than desirable. Men grate her nerves. Aang is barely an exception to the rule. All the men in her life navigate the world with one eye open and the other closed. They are cursed with blind spots. </p><p>"I think you know what I <em> don't </em> want." Katara plays the game with him. She smirks, omitting the truth—no man has been capable of figuring out what she wants. </p><p>Aang stops combing her long hair. He rests his hands on her bare shoulders. Her skin is dewy. The air that seeps in through the windows is humid and suffocating. It's always so sticky in the Fire Nation. The hair around her temples curls with sweat.</p><p>"I don't know what else to say." Aang sighs defeat. It doesn't exactly hurt him. Aang will wait eons for Katara. That is his charm. He loves her unconditionally. It is also the problem. His love for her is without consequence. Like a thing that is left over from childhood and stunted.</p><p>"To be fair, I wouldn't want to marry Zuko either. He takes himself too seriously." Aang flops onto the bed like a starfish. Katara looks at him askance. His smile widens but his eyes are closed. Sweat makes his skin shimmery under the candle light. He looks like a boy in dim light sometimes, despite the definition of hard work in his form.</p><p>"I think that is Mai's problem." Katara plays with the ends of her hair. </p><p><em> What is your problem though, Katara? </em>Aang wonders to himself. He gets the feeling she will never actually tell him. Deducing with reason, he figures it is probably best that he never really knows. They are happy and that is what counts.</p><p>Katara lies down beside him, resting her cheek on his rigid shoulder. She folds a soft brown leg over his abdomen. Aang pulls her in closer, so that her nose crushes into his neck and his hand is in the thick of her hair.</p><p>"Do you think Zuko marches to bed like a soldier to make love to Mai? And grunts like he's on the battlefield?" Aang's laughter is guttural. "That's most definitely why she won't marry him!"</p><p>"What if someone hears you?" Katara snorts.</p><p>"I would say it to his face!"</p><p>And they are kids all over again. Stunted—<em> in a valley where it is neither too hot nor too cold, where thistledown floats over their heads, and the air isn't suffocating. Nowhere immediately on this earth </em>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Mai sits across from Zuko in his study. She is pink with inebriation. Zuko had been absent for most of the party. It embarrassed her. How can she be seen as this great love to the Fire Lord when he respected her so little? In the eyes of her vicious, vapid, friends, she couldn't be <em> that </em> adored by him. Mai is as feminine as she has been trained to be in the space of men, but with Zuko she is abrupt and opinionated. She has copied his masculine way of demanding things.</p><p>"You're awfully rude." She clips the silence. The red of her lips has faded and smeared. She still wears her jewelry. Zuko had retired to his lonesome early.</p><p>"If being tired is rude then I suppose so." His hair falls around his shoulders as he leans over his desk.</p><p>"My affection tires you?" Mai sits straight up in her seat. Her bracelets tinkle together when she drops her arms into her lap.</p><p>Zuko stares back at the woman he's loved for a long time. He gazes at her with no telling expression on his face. Mai thinks he looks so cruel—that is his appeal after all. Damaged Zuko and his journey to goodness. Sad, pitiful, pathetic, Zuko. That's what Azula used to say. Nothing nice ever preceded his name. Mai rolls the bad words around in her mouth, a pool of saliva under her tongue.</p><p>"It exhausts me." Zuko doesn't mean it. She knows he doesn't but the fact that he says it at all devastates her. </p><p>"And that's why I won't marry you." Mai's voice is soft. She narrows her eyes at him.</p><p>"Then I guess I won't marry you." Zuko's voice cracks.</p><p>"I guess not, Lord Zuko." Mai gives a little shrug of her shoulders. The bridge and the bulb of her pointy nose is red like she is about to cry. She won't cry in front of him. She has dignity to preserve after all. "I can't marry you because you are not available. You don't really want to be vulnerable with me."</p><p>"If I weren't available, I wouldn't be sitting here, tolerating your irate drunkenness..." Zuko says coolly.</p><p>"I'm not irate. I'm hurt." Mai flips her hair over her shoulder.</p><p>"Why?" </p><p>Mai gapes at him with puddles in her eyes. If Zuko took the fierceness of their sex and applied it to their conversations about the world, she would feel much better. He performs so often and he's just so good at it that sometimes she has no idea who he is.</p><p>"You have more pride than you do love inside of you." She wipes at her eyes.</p><p>Zuko takes a moment of silence, like she'd just given a eulogy. He feels the weight of a deadness in his stomach suddenly. Dread makes him pale.</p><p>Mai stands up, gathering the gaudiness of her robes in her fingers. She presses her lips together to smother a string of swears.</p><p>"What does that even mean...Mai?" He watches her leave. Her bare feet slap against the floor. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Katara lies flat on her back with her robe open, exposing her chest to the air. Aang had rolled over onto his side. They found their bodies too hot and their skin had started to stick together.</p><p>"I can't have sex like this." Aang had grumbled before lulling off into a heavy sleep.</p><p>Katara didn't want to have sex anyway. Sex sort of repulses her. She doesn't feel this way when it is happening. It's coming down off of the pulse of her orgasm that causes her to feel disgusting. Ever since she figured out that there is no magical moment when you let someone inside of you, sex is not something she fantasizes about anymore. Humans just find it necessary to give purpose to the vulgarity of their primitive inclinations. You don't need romance to shake and convulse, but imagine if it were a key ingredient. Katara is a cynic in her adulthood. Aang still believes in romance. </p><p>There's a light rapping on the door. Katara sits up and swings her legs out of the bed. </p><p>Mai is on the other side, sobbing violently. Katara steps into the hallway, shutting the door behind her and scoops Mai into her arms. </p><p>Zuko's problems orbit Katara. The universe will have it no other way.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Katara doesn't knock on the door to Zuko's study. He isn't surprised to see her as he juggles a tiny spit of fire on his fingertips. His hair drapes around his face, hiding his aggravated expression. Katara walks to his desk then flattens her palms on the surface of parchment. </p><p>"Why am I always the one solving your problems." She starts.</p><p>"Because you meddle and you just so happen to be so damn good at it that people forget you are nosy." Zuko watches the fire dance from one finger to the next. His gnarled ear peeks out of his bone straight hair. </p><p>"No. That's not it at all and you know it."</p><p>"Then it beats me."</p><p>"Mai believes that you dislike her."</p><p>"I asked her to marry me. She is being overly sensitive." Zuko smothers the fire in the palm of his hand. Smoke curls around his fingers. He turns his head to face her. Katara's hair curls out in every direction. She bends over his desk so he can see down her robe and the shape of her breast. The jewel of her necklace swings back and forth.</p><p>"Sometimes you can be overtly insensitive." She grimaces at him.</p><p>"I don't hurt your feelings. You simply brush off the things that I say. Even the nice things." Zuko deadpans. "She should be more like you. Impenetrable."</p><p>Zuko does hurt her feelings. Especially when he blindly hurts himself. She is just as if not more sensitive than Mai. Katara is just the better warrior. Pain ceases to surprise her. </p><p>"So you're just punishing her for making the best decision for herself?" She sits down in the same chair Mai had fled from. Katara's erect posture shows him that she isn't going to leave until some progress is made. That's how it goes with her. She doesn't sleep until a problem is solved. Aang is very lucky. Zuko imagines that they never go to bed angry. </p><p>Zuko <em> is </em>punishing Mai. He wants her to feel the same way he did when she turned down his proposal. His nostrils flare as he inhales, chest rising and falling. He breathes like he'd just carried that heavy dead weight of disappointment up one hundred flights of stairs.</p><p>"You say it like that and it sounds so cruel." The rough landscape of his face softens. He slides the rings off his fingers and drops them on his desk. The gold hitting against the surface is loud. Then he snakes the gold chain and jade pendulum over his head, disregarding it with the rings. Some of his hair sticks up.</p><p>"It is cruel and you should feel bad." Katara tugs her robe closer to her body.</p><p>"Can she not see the place I'm coming from? I do love Mai. I don't dislike her. I don't have the capacity to dislike anything about her. She has the best of everything. I don't care that she is materialistic."</p><p>"I don't think she's materialistic. She is bored and lonely and makes the best out of the materials that you give her to keep herself occupied."</p><p>"She has her friends."</p><p>"<em> Zuko </em>. She calls them pigeons." Iroh has told Katara and Aang this. Mai laughs at the vapid nature of a noble woman's lifestyle. It's an inside joke she shares with Iroh.</p><p>Zuko makes a clicking sound with his tongue.</p><p>"Why don't you share a bed with her?" Katara tilts her head to the side. His nose wrinkles when he frowns. Mai must've told her an awful lot. </p><p>"Because I go to bed so late and I don't like waking her up." And he has terrible dreams. He thrashes in his sleep. Katara knows this.</p><p>"Has she said she doesn't like having her sleep disturbed?" Her brows shoot up.</p><p>"No, but..."</p><p>"Sounds like you've made many decisions on her behalf." Then Katara smiles because the answer is always simple. </p><p>"Only because I love her," Zuko says it so much, Katara suspects that he is trying to convince himself. Not that she doubts his feelings. He just always sounds uncertain about everything. He cannot outgrow this trait.</p><p>"Zuko, it is because I love you that I am capable of seeing how difficult you are to love. I tell you the truth out of obligation. I love you, therefore I am obligated to tell you when you are wrong. You are being cruel to Mai when you deny her your vulnerability. That is why she told you no." Katara has loved him mightily since she was a girl.</p><p>"I deny everyone my vulnerability." His voice is hushed like Katara had violently destroyed a prized possession of his.</p><p>"I know. That isn't how you love people. Love is laborious. More physical than spiritual in my opinion." Katara is proud of herself. </p><p>"You love me, Katara?" Zuko's eyes widen.</p><p>"Of course I do. I don't know how else to exist but to love indiscriminately." But her love for Zuko gives her body great strength. Laborious and tedious. She is glad she has been ignoring it. It would only exhaust her if she meditated with it.</p><p>She wants to say—<em> I kissed the back of your neck. Don't you remember, silly? </em></p><p>A natural pause in conversation occurs. Katara looks away and Zuko's throat tightens. History sits between them like a bloated corpse that refuses to return to the earth. Zuko wants to know the magnitude of her love.</p><p>"I love you too." He clears his throat. Can he quantify his love? Is it narrow or wide? </p><p>"I think I should go back to bed." Katara rises and so does Zuko, almost tumbling his chair back. He walks around his desk to stand beside her. As she turns, he grabs her by the elbow.</p><p>"Aang is truly blessed to have you. I think we would all be very lost in the world if you didn't exist." Even the pigs, sheep, goats, and the ocean. A world without Katara is barren. Zuko has tried to imagine what his life would be like if he were with Katara, but he knew she would not readily conform to the customs of his people. She doesn't like the Capital City. The peace isn't enough for her trauma. The red walls terrorize her.</p><p><b> <em>Or</em> </b>...he is doing exactly what she has accused him of? Making decisions for other people without asking. But he wouldn't have changed for her. He wouldn't dare ask her to change. </p><p>"He is incredibly lucky. I'm pretty great." Katara politely shakes his hand from her arm. He's right. She is impenetrable. He says her name before she turns completely away from him. Katara hesitates. When she is nervous she combs her fingers through her hair. She breaks apart the knots around her face.</p><p>"Katara." He repeats himself. She arches a brow at him.</p><p>"Thank you. You're too good to me."</p><p><em> Not good enough </em> she thinks. Not good enough to pick over pretty and pale Mai. Katara could never give him that rewarding sense of returning home. She is big enough of a woman to understand the complexities of his politics and the optics. The laws are different now but prejudice doesn't vanish overnight. Hundreds of years of it most definitely didn't go away because of his leadership.</p><p>"You're very welcome." She swallows.</p><p>There is nothing else to say.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>
  <br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think maybe one day I could seriously write Zutara. This was fun. Maybe when I finish the show I can commit myself to it fully. This was a fun experiment. Thank you for reading. Errors and stuff I will clean up later.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't know if I should continue this. I've had it written for a while. Then I started binging Avatar on Netflix. I've been entertaining Zutara but now I've officially been sold. I just don't think I have any nuance to bring to the ship that hasn't already been explored. At least I tried right? That's all that matters. Errors I missed I will eventually fix later.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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